


The Ghost of Christmas Present

by Gort



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Based on a Cheesy Holiday Movie, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Ghost William, Minor Giles/Jenny, Minor Willow/Tara, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: It's almost Christmas, and Buffy's been sent to oversee the sale of a quaint inn that also happens to be haunted by a handsome, annoying ghost. William's been chasing people away for over a hundred years, but he might have just met his match.Beta'd by Sunalso!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunalso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/gifts).



> Written in 2017 at a feverish pace so as to finish it in time for Christmas, but I'd forgotten it wasn't posted here!

“Summers!”

Buffy winced and looked around frantically, but there was nowhere to hide. She was practically the only one in the office this late in the evening, and Snyder had seen her at the coffee machine five minutes earlier due to his creepy habit of leaving his office door open a crack so he could make sure no one was standing around and “wasting time in the break room”.

If Willow had been there, she would have shaken her head sadly and told Buffy she was out of luck. Unfortunately, Willow had enough sense to leave at a normal time, or at least a much better incentive. Buffy tried not to be envious of her best friend’s relationship, but if she had to sit through one more rendition of “Let me tell you how amazing Tara is” she was just going to buy fifty cats and give up completely.

Steeling herself, Buffy swigged the last of her terrible, lukewarm coffee—seriously, how old was that damn machine? her boss was such a cheapskate—and pasted on a smile as Snyder came barging into the paralegal department.

“There you are,” Snyder barked. “I’ve got a special assignment for you.” He frowned at the paperwork in his hand. “Podunk little nothing town,” he muttered under his breath. “Complete waste of time and…”

Buffy cleared her throat. “Um, yes, sir?”

Snyder sneered at her. “Hope you don’t have holiday plans, Summers.”

Buffy struggled to keep her smile from slipping. It wasn’t as though he paid enough attention to know, or even cared in the slightest about his employee’s personal lives, even if his remark was way too on the nose. She was pretty sure he’d started his own law firm because no one else wanted to work with such an odious, angry little man. Unfortunately, his personality worked to his advantage in the courtroom, and now he was one of the top defense lawyers in all of New York.

Hopefully, next year Dawn would be over the need to spend every waking minute with her new guy, who was taking her somewhere romantic and possibly Swiss for the holidays. Buffy had never even managed to find a date who’d spring for taxi fare to Hoboken, let alone a ski vacation in the Alps. She supposed she should be used to living in the big city by now, but every once in a while she’d look up, catch a hint of starlight, and sigh, remembering happy times in a much smaller town.

“Here.” Snyder thrust the paperwork at her. “This needs to get taken care of pronto. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done.”

“Okay?” Buffy said uncertainly, shuffling through the pile of paperwork. A glossy 8x10 photograph caught her eye, one featuring the most picturesque place she’d ever seen. She pulled it out and drank in the sight of a gorgeous winter inn. Snow was piled high on the Victorian roofline, the front porch was wide and welcoming, and there was the most wonderful curlicue detailing around the windows. She could picture the Christmas tree that would stand in the bay window, its lights shining out into the quaint neighborhood.

“Damned woman, dying this time of year,” Snyder somehow managed to look down his nose at Buffy even though her heels gave her a slight height advantage. “And don’t let those yokals try and put you off with that ghost nonsense.”

“Ghost?” Buffy asked in confusion, shuffling through the papers again. A collection of newspaper articles caught her eye and she pulled them out of the stack. An old-fashioned portrait of a man stared at her from the faded newsprint. He was dressed in a stuffy suit but the hint of a smile graced the edge of his mouth as he looked somewhere to the left of the camera. A strand of hair that must have escaped his attention curled across one temple. Buffy found herself tracing the edge of the photo with one finger, fascinated.

“What part of pronto don’t you understand?” Snyder snapped impatiently.

“Oh.” Buffy shook herself out of her reverie and tried to guess Snyder’s intentions from the pile of paperwork in her hands. “You want me to…get this place ready to sell?” she finished, unable to keep the dismay from her voice.

“And I want it done by the end of the year!” Snyder called over his shoulder, already striding back towards his office.

“But…” Buffy trailed off as he disappeared. “That’s, like, barely two weeks,” she finished lamely. The empty room didn’t offer a reply.

She really should have gone home on time.

***

Buffy peered through the windshield at the house in front of her. It looked like something that only existed in a snow globe, with icicles framing the windows and the sun making everything sparkle. It was perfect. Which probably meant whoever bought it was going to tear it down and turn it into a strip mall or something.

She wrinkled her nose and shook herself. Not that it mattered. This was probably the first and last time she was ever going to get a free trip to some town straight out of a Christmas card in the middle of nowhere, New York, and she was determined to enjoy it. Her mother would have absolutely loved it. Buffy felt tears prick her eyes. She knew the real reason Dawn wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. It just wouldn’t feel the same without Mom.

Wiping at her eyes in irritation, Buffy shoved open the car door, shivering as the cold air hit her face. She dug into her jacket pockets and pulled out the fuzzy, knitted hat Willow and Tara had gifted her with last Christmas, pulling it low over her ears. It was a riot of colors and the giant bobble on top probably made her look less than professional, but she doubted anyone out here would care. Actually—she frowned, looking around at the empty parking lot in front of the inn—it didn’t look like anyone was around to even notice.

She slammed the car door closed and headed for the immaculately swept porch steps. The façade of the inn was even more gorgeous in person than in photographs, but…something was missing. Pausing, Buffy realized there wasn’t even a tiny sprig of mistletoe decorating the place. Huh, that was weird. Didn’t they have guests who wanted to celebrate the holidays? That explained the empty parking lot. Maybe the owners were mega-Scrooges or something.

She stomped her feet on the mat to clear the snow off her boots and rang the doorbell, hearing the chime echo through the house inside. She was a little late for her appointment with the local home inspection guy, but maybe he’d just gotten started without her.

“Hello?” The man who opened the door had salt and pepper hair and a British accent. A pair of glasses was perched on the end of his nose and he was frowning at her in complete confusion.

“Greg?” Buffy asked hopefully, even though she was almost positive he wasn’t the home inspector.

“Sorry, we’re closed for the season.” He started to close the front door but Buffy planted her hands on the solid wooden surface.

“Wait,” she said in desperation. “I’m supposed to meet Greg here. I’m from Snyder and Wilkins?”

A shadow crossed the older man’s face. “I see. Surely you’re not trying to find a buyer this close to Christmas? We’ll reschedule for January.” He tried to close the door again, but Buffy was ready for him this time. Thank goodness she’d worn her sturdy boots. All that time she’d spent serving subpoenas while trying to find a permanent job had come in handy after all.

“Actually, I really need to get this done,” Buffy said, sliding into the foyer before the befuddled man could work out why the door had bounced open again. “Hi, I’m Buffy.” She stuck out her hand.

“Erm, Rupert Giles?” the man replied, gingerly shaking her hand. “But I really must insist-”

“You work here, Mr. Giles?” she interrupted before he could try to chase her off again.

“Just Giles is fine,” he said. “I’ve been running the inn, yes. I know—knew—the family.”

Buffy glanced around the foyer, catching glimpses of the rooms beyond. The inside was as pretty as the outside, all polished wood, wainscoting, and period wallpapers. It almost felt like she’d stepped into the past. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Giles’ expression lightened. “It is, isn’t it? Shame to see it sold. Now–” Giles picked up a small suitcase she hadn’t noticed before– “I really do have to lock up. We can make an appointment for another time.”

Shaking her head, Buffy turned back to Giles. “Sorry, the boss says it can’t wait. I have keys if you need to go.”

“Erm, you weren’t planning on…staying here, were you?”

“Yes?” Buffy replied, lifting her eyebrows. “Since it’s an inn and I’m, you know, in need of a room?” She gave the man a wry smile. “You’re not going to make me sleep in the barn, are you?”

Giles let out a bark of laughter before composing himself. “No, I’m afraid we haven’t got a barn.”

“Great!” Buffy headed for the staircase only to find Giles blocking the way. He was starting to look very nervous.

“Really, I must insist, no one stays here this time of year. It’s rather a…a tradition.”

“To not be here for Christmas?” Buffy asked skeptically. A moment later, she gasped. “Oh my gosh, is this because of the ‘ghost’?” She barely managed to keep from making air quote with her fingers. She’d avidly read all the newspaper clippings about the supposed hauntings before leaving New York. There were all kind of spooky stories about guests catching a glimpse of the son of the original owner. Apparently, he’d died under mysterious circumstances just before Christmas over a hundred years ago.

“William.” Giles sighed, taking off his glasses and frowning at them. “Yes, actually. So now if you’ll just allow me to escort you back to your car…”

“I’m staying.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Hey, when am I ever going to get another chance to meet a ghost?” Buffy winked at Giles, who dropped his head onto his hand.

“Oh dear lord.”

***

Shivering, Buffy pulled her cardigan tighter around herself and waited for the stupid kettle on the stove to boil. What kind of kitchen didn’t have a microwave? All she wanted was a hot chocolate to try and keep herself from freezing in this drafty old house.

“Come on,” she muttered, shifting from foot to foot. This place was a lot creepier in the dark, and she was kind of starting to regret insisting she was fine here on her own. Giles had given her one last pitying look before driving away, promising that he’d check on her in the morning. She hadn’t been able to find a TV and the book she’d picked hadn’t been exciting enough to keep her attention. What she really needed was a nice, juicy romance novel to keep her company, but either the people who stayed here were mega-boring or Giles refused to keep any actual interesting books in the house. She was guessing the latter. He seemed kind of uptight.

The kettle finally started to whistle and, after topping off her chocolately drink with some milk, Buffy headed back up to the room she’d picked. Strangely, even though Giles had said no one stayed here over the holidays, the fridge and pantry were packed with enough food for at least a couple of weeks. At least she wasn’t going to have to shell out for her own food. Snyder was notoriously bad at reimbursing for expenses.

She settled back onto the surprisingly comfortable bed and picked up her book again, making a face at it. She’d already checked on Dawn, who was having a wonderful time, apparently, and talked to Willow until her best friend had to go meet Tara for dinner. Plus, Buffy’s phone was already at the data limit for the month, so it was either boring book or stare at the wall.

She could always go downstairs and stare at William’s portrait, which she’d found hanging in the parlor. It was the same one reproduced in all those articles she’d read, though the colors made him seem much more…alive. She wouldn’t have guessed he’d had such striking blue eyes, or that his hair was more of a sandy blond than the brown she’d been imagining. Maybe it wouldn’t really be all that bad if he showed up to haunt her. He was way cuter than the last guy she’d gone on a date with.

Sighing, Buffy vetoed a trip back downstairs in favor of staying under her pile of blankets and picked up her book. At least it wouldn’t take very long for her to fall asleep.

***

Buffy started awake, her heart pounding, and tried to extract herself from her nest of blankets. Sweat was making her hair stick to her forehead, and she had no idea what time it was. She peeled off her sweater and looked over to check her clock before remembering she wasn’t at home. Through the gap in the curtains, she could tell it was still dark outside.

A loud thump from downstairs had her choking back a startled gasp. Groping her way across the room, Buffy picked up her phone and frantically poked at it until she realized it was dead. She followed the cord back to the wall plug, rolling her eyes as she pugged it in the rest of the way so it would actually charge. Fantastic, now she was going to get murdered by burglars in a spooky old house like some dumb blonde in a horror movie. Unless…hadn’t there been a phone in the kitchen? She was almost positive she’d seen one hanging on the wall.

Steeling herself, Buffy slowly unlocked the door to her room and listened intently. She didn’t hear any more thumps, but there were definitely faint footfalls coming from somewhere in the house. She winced as her door creaked, but after holding her breath for what felt like forever, the footsteps started up again. Grabbing some pitcher-thing from a stand in the corner to use as a weapon, Buffy crept down the hall.

She paused at the top of the stairs before beginning her descent, one nerve-wracking stair after another. They were surprisingly non-squeaky, for which she was infinitely grateful, but she really wished they were carpeted so her steps didn’t seem so loud. She was only six risers from the bottom when a shadow crossed the foyer.

Buffy froze.

There was the sound of a match being struck, and the glow of a candle slowly lit the small space by the front door.

Buffy’s mouth fell open. A strangely familiar man was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was dressed in the same old-fashioned suit as in his portrait, though he was a lot more disheveled. His tie was missing, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his hair was a mass of unruly curls. A pair of silver-framed glasses were perched on his nose. If she hadn’t been busy having a heart attack, she was sure she would have appreciated the view. Buffy tried to find her voice. “Y-you…”

He frowned and crossed his arms, glaring up at her. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

She straightened up indignantly. “Your house?”

“Yes, my house!” He gestured expansively, his arms sweeping out to his sides.

Buffy pushed her hair out of her face and lifted the pitcher in her hand. “Get out before I call the police.”

The man, who really did look uncannily like William’s portrait, sniffed dismissively. “As if they’ll believe someone dressed like such a harlot.”

Buffy gasped and crossed one arm over her breasts. It wasn’t her fault the house was so darned cold. A minute ago her tank top had seemed more than adequate. “Get out!” she shrieked, hurling the pitcher at him.

The man dove for the pitcher, catching it before shattered against the floor by his feet. “Stop destroying my things,” he roared, setting it on a nearby sideboard.

Buffy turned on her heel and tried to sprint back up the stairs, hoping her phone had enough juice to call 911, but her sock-covered feet betrayed her on the slippery wooden riser. She fell sideways, frantically reaching for the railing, only to bang her elbow against it. Crying out in pain, she slipped off the stair and pitched backward. The last thing she saw was the ceiling, which was really quite nicely finished with plaster corniches and white trim, but that observation was lost as she banged her head and everything went black.

***

The very last thing William was expecting was to find a woman in his house.

Truly, he didn’t really expect to find anyone in his house. He was almost always alone, with no company except for his strange, vague memories of people whom he was sure were long gone, though he couldn’t recall their names or why they had left.

And this woman…she was breathtaking. Her hair was loose and flowed around her shoulders like golden strands of silk, and her features were delicate without being sharp. He even liked the fire in her eyes, though he could do without her trying to break his mother’s favorite pitcher. She was quite scandalously dressed, to be sure. Perhaps one of his acquaintances was playing a joke on him. Did he have acquaintances?

He was so busy admiring the way her breasts moved freely under her top as she spun around to head back upstairs that he didn’t notice at first she’d lost her footing. By the time he realized, she was already falling and he wasn’t able to move fast enough to keep her from hitting her head against the railing, though he did manage to catch her before she ended up on the floor.

She was soft. And warm. And her face was even more beautiful when she wasn’t yelling at him.

“Miss?” William whispered, trying not to let her charms distract him. Really, what would people think if they caught him galivanting about with a woman so indecently dressed in the middle of the night? He glanced around cautiously. Of course, this was his house, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had visitors. Perhaps no one had to know. It was curious how she’d seemed as surprised to see him as he’d been to see her. He hoped she hadn’t been hurt too badly. He knew he should keep his temper in check, but it was hard when he felt so confused all the time. Time seemed to flow backward and forward at once, and he was never sure what was real.

This woman, though, she felt very real. “Miss?” William repeated. She groaned faintly, and relief welled up inside of him. He shifted to ease the pressure on something else that was swelling with an embarrassing swiftness in his trousers. Thank goodness she wasn’t awake to notice. He carefully moved her so he could get an arm under her knees and her head lolled against his shoulder. She even smelled amazing.

Lifting her up, he marveled at her small stature. She’d seemed much larger when she’d been threatening him with a pitcher. He maneuvered her carefully through the doorway into the library and gently settled her on the settee.

She groaned again, and, in an attempt to at least pretend he was a gentleman, despite his very ungentlemanly thoughts, William retrieved a blanket from the back of a nearby chair and draped it over her, concealing her thin undergarments. If he was disappointed that he could no longer admire the curve of her breasts beneath the clinging fabric, well, he was sure he’d feel sufficiently ashamed later. Perhaps after he’d written some inspired lines about them.

He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, reveling in the softness of her skin. He didn’t notice until it was too late that her eyes were open. They were a shade of green that reminded him of shadowed forest pools and…blast, she was staring right at him. He probably looked like some besotted fool.

William attempted to scowl, but her eyes widened pitifully and he immediately forgot what he’d been trying to accomplish. “Are you alright?” he asked.

The woman glanced around the room, then down at the blanket covering her. “Did you…what happened?” she asked, sounding bewildered.

William dragged a chair closer to the settee so he could sit down and pull a pillow into his lap. The bulge in his trousers was becoming rather noticeable. “Er, well, you fell,” he said eloquently.

A crease appeared between her brows. “Since when do burglars take care of their victims?”

“I am not some common thief!” William exclaimed, sitting up a bit straighter. “As I explained earlier, you are the one trespassing, Miss.”

“Buffy.”

“Pardon?”

“My name’s Buffy.”

William tried not to let his joy at learning her name show on his face, but from the tiny smile she gave him, he suspected he wasn’t quite successful. “I’m William.” He inclined his head respectfully.

“You’re kidding.” He jerked his head up to find her staring at him in astonishment. She lifted a hand to her head. “Am I dreaming?”

“Dreaming?” William repeated.

“Oh my god, I’m totally dreaming.” Buffy flopped back on the settee, her perfect breasts bouncing enticingly beneath her shirt, and sighed dramatically. “Of course. The one guy it’s totally impossible for me to meet, I dream about.”

“Uh…” William started, confused. She regarding him from her decadent reclined position like Cleopatra on her barge. William wished for one fleeting instant he could he be her Marc Anthony before remembering his manners. “Should I fetch the doctor?”

Buffy lifted her eyebrows. “For a dream head injury?”

“This seems quite real to me, Miss.”

“Does it?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and he found himself transfixed by the sight. Her lips were pink and plump, and the shape of her mouth was just so…tempting. “For me, too.”

She gave him a shy smile that did absolutely nothing to help the situation in his trousers. He was a terrible, very bad man, to be thinking about a lady in such a manner. William shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “Well, ah…would you like some tea?” 

To his utter surprise, she laughed. His shoulders hunched as shame filled him. Of course she’d just been sent to tease him, as though a creature as glorious as her could possibly want to…

“Oh my god, I feel like I’m in a Jane Austin novel,” Buffy said. “This is amazing.” A weight on his leg had William jerking his head up in surprise. Her hand was perched on his knee. “Um, no thank you.” The way she was gazing at him from under her lashes caught him off guard. She didn’t look disgusted or superior, she looked…coy. “Maybe you could, um, make sure I’m okay?” She tilted her head to one side and tucked her feet up under her to making room for him on the settee.

He was having a very hard time following her train of thought, but head injuries were tricky. Perhaps after he made sure she wasn’t bleeding he could find her a doctor. “Certainly,” he said, sliding off the chair and onto the settee, the pillow still clutched in his lap. His heart pounding, his lifted one hand and gently touched her temple.

Buffy leaned closer to him and her hand slowly began to travel up his thigh. “I don’t think we need this,” she whispered, pushing the pillow off his lap and onto the floor. Somehow, William’s fingers were tangled in her hair and his hand was cupping her cheek. She was very close, and he noticed that her eyes had flecks of gold among the green. Her fingertips brushed along the inseam of his trousers and he managed to choke back a whimper as she pressed her lips to his.

She tasted like chocolate and fire.

His entire body lit up. His pulse quickened and blood rushed through his veins. He barely had time to register that her lips were soft before she surprised him even further by slipping her tongue into his mouth. The hand he hadn’t tangled in her hair had somehow found its way to her shoulder, and she moaned as he slipped a finger under the strap of her skimpy shirt and followed it down her bicep until his wrist brushed against the curve of her breast.

Buffy reached up and grasped his hand, easing it over until it was cradling her breast. Her bare skin was warm under his palm, and he broke the kiss, gasping, so he could see the marvel he held in his hand. Her nipple was a dusky rose color and the tip stiffened as he brushed his thumb over it, drawing a sigh from Buffy. He hardly knew which way was up most days, but this was something he was sure had never happened. He never would have forgotten a woman like this.

“William,” she whispered sweetly, making his heart soar.

“Buffy,” he breathed before capturing her lips again, and then, suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere at all.

***

Buffy opened her eyes in confusion.

The room was empty. A candle guttered on a nearby table, making her jump.

“William?”

She absently pulled up the strap of her tank top while staring around the room in confusion. Her elbow made contact with the arm of the couch and she winced in pain, rubbing it with her other hand. “Guess I’m not dreaming anymore,” she muttered. She slumped back and sighed. “God, I seriously need a boyfriend.”


	2. Chapter 2

This time when she was startled awake, the sun was streaming in around the edges of the curtains. The door downstairs slammed and she jumped, tensing.

“Buffy?” Giles called.

Buffy buried her face in her pillow and groaned. It better not be as early as it felt. She’d had a hard time falling back asleep last night and, in the light of day, her weird night seemed even weirder. She sat up, stretching, and noticed the pitcher was sitting right where it had been. Had she dreamed up the whole thing? She shivered and wrapped her arm around herself, wincing as her hand covered her elbow. Frowning, she peered down at a darkening bruise just above her funny bone.

Refusing the think about that any further, she grabbed a sweater and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers, then headed downstairs.

***

“There you are.” Giles lowered the newspaper he was reading as she stepped into the dining room. “Did you sleep well?” He picked up a delicate teacup and lifted it to his lips, taking a sip before setting it down again. 

“Coffee?” she asked hopefully.

Giles snorted. “Americans.” A smile flitted across his face. “In the kitchen.”

“Bless you,” Buffy said fervently. She went and poured herself a cup, splashing milk in it and drinking half a cup before topping it off. Feeling slightly more human, she headed back into the dining room and plunked down in one of the hardback wooden chairs.

“I’ll take that as a no?”

“Huh?” Buffy looked up from her mug of caffeinated goodness and pulled her hand away from the lump she’d found behind her right ear. Okay, this was getting mega weird. Maybe she’d hit her head in her sleep and dreamed about it without waking up?

Giles took off his glasses, setting them on the table and gazing at her with a serious expression. “You saw him,” he intoned.

“What? No!” Buffy said hastily. “There was no seeing, I swear.” She paused as he lifted his eyebrows. “I mean…saw who?” she added weakly.

“He’s quite harmless if you just give him some space,” Giles said. “I’m sorry if he frightened you.”

Buffy gulped down another mouthful of coffee to hide her burning face. Now things were officially, seriously, the weirdest. “I’m fine,” she managed. “And ghosts aren’t real. What did you do, hire some…some lookalike?”

Giles sighed. “I asked the same thing, once upon a time. While he’s certainly an unconventional spirit, I’m afraid he’s quite real, if a bit ill-tempered”

“Oh god.” Buffy dropped her head onto the table. She’d kissed some stranger that had everyone convinced he was a ghost. She had the worst luck with men. “Please tell me I’m still dreaming.”

“I can recommend a nearby hotel,” Giles said, amusement coloring his voice. “He’ll be gone by Christmas. Your boss doesn’t expect you to work through the holidays, I’m sure.”

Buffy lifted her head and propped her chin on one hand. Snyder, right. There was a reason she was out here, and the sooner the house was sold, the sooner she could pretend this had all never happened. She opened her mouth to ask if Giles could recommend another home inspector, but that wasn’t what came out. “Why Christmas?”

“Sorry?” Giles folded the newspaper and set it aside.

“Why is he just around for Christmas?”

“Oh.” Giles frowned thoughtfully. “Well, it’s likely he’s around all the time. We’ve had quite a few instances of broken electronics and flickering lights the rest of the year—that’s why there haven’t been many changes to the place, he really seems to hate modern conveniences—but he’s only corporeal for a few days around Christmas. It was when he died, you know.”

Buffy wondered if head injuries made crazy things other people said sounds just a little more plausible. “Why does he keep coming back?”

“No one’s quite sure, though there’ve been quite a few theories.” Giles shrugged. “Even William doesn’t seem to know what happened to him. It always takes him a bit to remember me from his previous visits, and I’ve been here nearly ten years now. I’ve found it’s usually best to leave him to his own devices for a while before checking in on him.”

“If he’s a ghost,” Buffy said skeptically. “I don’t think he needs checking on.”

Giles gave her a small smile. “I feel a bit sorry for the chap, to be honest. He appears during the time of year when everyone’s celebrating with family, only to find his is all gone. It must be terribly lonely.”

“What happened to…wait, no.” Buffy picked up her coffee cup and stood. “This is bonkers. There’s no such thing as ghosts. If this is some elaborate scheme to try and stop us from selling the inn, let me tell you, mister, you have never met my boss. He might be an absolutely horrible human being, but he’s a great lawyer, and he never loses.” She turned and marched toward the kitchen.

“Hello, William,” Giles said calmly behind her. Buffy whirled around in the doorway, clutching her coffee cup like a lifeline.

There he was, the man from last night. The sunlight streaming in through the windows brightened the unruly curls of his hair and lit up the blue in his eyes. He was staring right at her. She found herself taking a step in his direction before she’d even thought about it.

“You’re selling my house?” William breathed.

Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat.

“So, have you two officially met?” Giles asked.

***

Buffy gave her hair one last brush before pulling it back in a ponytail. “It doesn’t matter what William thinks,” she repeated to herself. “You don’t even know the guy, and he’s pretending to be a ghost. He’s obviously a total whack job.” She was only doing her job, and if she didn’t do it, she was totally going to get fired. Snyder did not look kindly on failure.

It was just…William had looked so absolutely betrayed earlier before she’d fled into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. She’d snuck up the stairs while he’d been ranting at Giles and hidden in her room trying to figure out what the heck to do now. Should she stay somewhere else? Go back to her tiny studio apartment and try to get ahold of the mysterious Greg? Beg for Willow’s help?

She sighed and straightened the hem of her cute gray sweater. None of this was her fault, and it wasn’t fair that William was blaming her for it. Especially since he was the one who’d scared the crap out of her last night before…before all the kissing. She’d just have to not do that again. It shouldn’t be hard, since now he probably hated her.

Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed her closet door slowly opening. A shadow crossed in front of her window, dimming the sunlight for a moment. Turning, heart pounding, Buffy yanked the door open, only to find her suitcase sitting innocently inside with her clothes neatly hung above it. Okay, all of these ghost stories must really be getting to her.

Buffy finished zipping up her boots and looked around her room one last time. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She headed downstairs, closing her door firmly behind her.

***

The foyer was empty, and Buffy had to push away her disappointment at not finding William standing in it. Someone was playing the piano, the sounds of a familiar song she couldn’t quite place filling the house. The dining room was empty, but the parlor was not.

William was sitting at the piano, his head bowed, and his back tense. Buffy hesitated in the doorway, but he must have heard her because a sour note rang out just before his hands stopped moving. She bit her lip nervously as he turned around, putting his back to the piano and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you want now?” he asked irritably. “To break some more of my things, or maybe sell them out from under my nose?”

Taking a shaky breath, Buffy stepped into the room, her eyes drifting over to the couch they’d sat on last night before she could stop herself. “That’s not…I didn’t…” She made a noise of frustration. “I’m supposed to get the house ready to sell. If I don’t, I lose my job, but I’m sorry, okay, William? Or whatever you name is.”

He tipped his head to one side, his brow furrowing. “Why would I have another name?”

Buffy’s eyebrows lifted, and she took another step in his direction. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re pretending to be the ghost of some guy who died over a hundred years ago, so why would it matter if you lied to me about that?”

William’s face fell. “I…I’m not lying to you, Buffy, I swear it. I just-” He reached up and tugged nervously on a lock of his hair. “I don’t know why I’m here, or why I always come back. It’s hard for me to remember the things and people from before. This place is all I have left from when…from when I was alive, you see?”

He looked so earnest that Buffy found herself wanting to comfort him, which was ridiculous. She sighed and crossed the room anyways, stopping in front of where he sat on the piano bench. He gazed up at her as she reached out and cupped his cheek. She wanted to be mad at him, but it was really hard when he seemed so genuinely confused. His eyes widened as her thumb traced along his cheekbone.

“See? You’re not a ghost,” she whispered.

William reached up and covered her hand with his own, nuzzling against her palm. “I am,” he said sadly. He stood up, still holding her hand. “I can show you.” He eyed her intently. “If you’d like?”

Slowly, Buffy nodded, and he led her out of the parlor and through the front door. “My coat,” Buffy protested as they walked down the porch steps. The sun was bright, glinting off the snow, but the air was brisk and chilly.

“We’re not going far,” William said. He paused at the front gate, looking out at the empty street in front of the house. The gate creaked as he pulled it open and took a breath, letting it out slowly. He turned to face her and took her other hand. “Ready?”

“For what?” she asked, confused. There was no one else around, just her and William and the pristine snow of the front yard. The wrought iron fence that marked the edges of the property was low and painted glossy black. Her car was the only one in the tiny parking lot next to the inn.

William just gave her a crooked smile before taking a step back.

Then he was gone.

Buffy stumbled a little, grasping at empty air where William’s hands had been a moment before. She spun around, but she was alone. There was nowhere for him to hide, and she was starting to get a really bad feeling about this. “William?” she called. There was no answer.

She practically sprinted back towards the house, her heart pounding. Oh god, either she was going crazy, or he really was…maybe a ghost. Which was impossible because there was no such thing as ghosts. Great, so she was crazy. “William?” she yanked open the front door and paused just inside it, her eyes searching the empty foyer.

He wasn’t anywhere.

It was just like last night when he’d been there one moment and gone the next, vanishing into thin air. Apparently, she hadn’t been dreaming at all. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered violently, then stepped into the parlor and stopped short.

William was sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his knees. His hands were clenched tightly together and he was staring at his boots. “You see?” he said softly, lifting his head. She couldn’t read the expression on his face.

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat. “Where did you go?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere that I remember. I just was there, and then I was here.”

“But how?” Buffy cautiously moved closer, settling on the other end of the small couch and watching him intently. He didn’t so much as flicker in and out of existence like a ghost was supposed to. Not that she’d ever met one before.

Shrugging again, William glanced at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “Suppose that’s just how it goes when you’re nothing.”

Tentatively, she reached out she put a hand on his forearm. She felt his muscles tense and relax. “You feel real to me,” she murmured. Furrowing her brow, she glanced up at him. “Were you in my room earlier?”

“What?” William looked startled. “No! I wouldn’t dare…that is, I would never presume to…” Color bloomed in his cheeks.

“So, you didn’t put the pitcher back last night?”

“The one you tossed at my head?” William lifted one eyebrow and it was Buffy’s turn to blush. “I didn’t fancy having it used against me a second time, so no.”

“I thought you were a burglar!”

“I don’t think you can burgle your own house.” He slumped back against the couch dejectedly. “Though I suppose it won’t be mine much longer.”

Guilt crept up on her. “I’m really sorry,” Buffy offered. “If I could, I’d…I mean, this place is really pretty, but way out of my price range, so I couldn’t, but if I could…” she trailed off as William smiled at her. She was really starting to enjoy seeing him smile. “And then neither of us would be alone on Christmas,” she finished lamely. The corners of William’s mouth turned down. “I mean if you wanted. I wouldn’t like, demand you bake cookies with me or anything, I just meant-”

His lips on hers stopped her from making an even bigger fool of herself, although if he was kissing her she’d guess he didn’t think she was that foolish. He tugged her closer, one hand under her chin and the other on her back until she found herself in his lap. She loved how he kissed her with such single-minded intensity. His tongue darted into her mouth and out again as she returned his kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck and sliding her hand down over his shirt and suit vest.

He kissed a path up her jaw to her ear. “I would like that very much,” he whispered into her hair. “I wish…”

The front door opened. “Buffy?” she heard Giles call.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut tightly, not wanting reality to intrude, and William let out a noise that sounded like a growl, holding her tight. He buried his face against her shoulder and she tangled a hand into his hair. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t real. What would happen to him if whoever bought the house changed it or tore it down? Was his existence tied to it in some way?

“Buf-” Giles' voice cut off with a grunt. “Ow, woman, what was that…ah.” He cleared his throat and Buffy cracked open one eye to see him standing in the doorway of the parlor vigorously polishing his glasses. A woman with dark, bobbed hair and a friendly smile gave Buffy a wink before pushing Giles towards the dining room.

“We’ve brought lunch if you’re hungry!” the woman called once they were out of sight.

William lifted his head, frowning. “Who was that?”

Buffy shrugged. “One of Giles’ friends?”

“I hope I’m not supposed to remember her,” William grumbled. “I hate trying to recall everyone’s names.”

Her insides twisted unpleasantly, and Buffy slid off William’s lap. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. William would probably forget her from one year to the next, too. For all she knew, he hooked up with every woman who crossed his path.

William glanced at her, puzzled, as she stood up from the couch, her shoulders suddenly tense. “Maybe we should go have lunch and see.”

“If you’d like,” William said, rising from the couch.

Buffy headed for the dining room with William following her, trying to untangle the confusion in her head. If he really was a ghost, he’d been visiting his home just before Christmas for a hundred years, presumably meeting the people who’d lived here along the way. Giles had said William was usually left to his own devices, but it couldn’t always have been this way.

The thought of him kissing another woman made her insides ache, but why wouldn’t someone else have seen what she did in him? Buffy was just the woman who crossed his path this Christmas. By next year he’d have forgotten her completely. 

***

William trailed after Buffy, eyeing her stiff posture and wondering where he’d gone wrong. Was she embarrassed at being caught with him? His shoulders slumped. Yes, he could see how she wouldn’t want anyone to know she’d been intimate with a shade such as him. He was still boring old William, even if he was a ghost.

“Just try it, Rupert,” a woman William didn’t recognize was saying in exasperation, serving something to Giles. “I promise it won’t bite.” Giles frowned at his plate and poked at a mass of something green and leafy.

“Buffy, right?” the woman said, pulling the lid off another container before sticking out her hand. “I’m Jenny.”

“Is that kale?” Buffy asked, sounding hopeful. William eyes the greenery on Giles’ plate. It looked more like something to hang from the ceiling than to eat. 

“Grew it myself,” Jenny said cheerfully. She shot Giles a look. “And it’s not poisonous, Rupert, stop making that face.”

“What’s this thing?” Giles poked at something on his plate.

“A dried cranberry. Merry Christmas,” Jenny said, rolling her eyes and shooting Buffy a conspiratorial wink. The tension in Buffy’s posture eased a little and William tried to catch her eye but she wouldn’t look at him. “And you must be William,” Jenny continued, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“We haven’t met before, then?” William asked cautiously. He saw Buffy dart a glance in his direction and wished he could tell what she was thinking.

“Oh no,” Jenny assured him. “I only moved to town last year.”

“She owns the, ah, a store downtown,” Giles said.

Jenny distributed the greenery on the rest of their plates and William eyed it dubiously, though Buffy seemed to have no such compunction. “It’s a little New Age-y for poor Rupert, but I’m the only one in town who stocks his favorite tea, so he’s forced to come visit me.”

William watched Buffy’s face soften as she glanced at Giles and then back at Jenny, a tiny smile playing on her lips. He began to panic. Wasn’t Giles a bit old for her? Did she find tea-drinking endearing? He’d offered her tea last night and she’d seemed to like that. Perhaps he should do so again?

“I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy visiting you in the least,” Buffy said, her smile widening as Giles’ cheeks reddened.

William snapped his mouth shut as he realized Buffy was implying that Giles relished seeing the proprietress more than purchasing his tea, and felt a bit foolish for not noticing. She was a quick one, his girl. No doubt she’d always keep him on his toes. He smiled at her from across the table and Buffy dropped her eyes to her food, poking it with her fork.

His heart sank. No, of course she wasn’t his girl. And he could never ask her to be. He had nothing to offer her but twelve days a year of ghostly companionship. It wasn’t something any woman would choose. 

Jenny laughed and took a seat next to William. “So, William, I’m glad you could join us. Giles made it sound like you were quite a recluse.”

William lifted his eyebrows and glanced at Giles. “Er, well, I suppose I might have been. I’m afraid that while my memories from my life are mostly intact, the ones from…after that, are a bit murky.” He saw Buffy’s shoulder’s slump and wondered again what he’d done to make her so unhappy.

Jenny eyed him sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. That must be very hard.”

“Well,” he said, gathering his courage. “I can assure you that this year is one I’m never likely to forget.” He was heartened to see Buffy peek at him from under his lashes.

“Nor I, unfortunately” Giles muttered. Buffy’s cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink.

Jenny gave William a kind smile. “Rupert just means it’s nice to see that things can change, even after all this time.” She gave Giles a pointed look that even William took notice of.

“Has he always…I mean,” Buffy started, looking at Giles rather than William. “You said it’s tradition to close this place for the holidays. How long has that been going on?”

“Since he first came back, I believe,” Giles said, chasing the last cranberry around his plate with his fork. “William’s always been…temperamental, and they weren’t quite sure what to do about him.” He shot William an apologetic smile. “Henrietta said her family had let him have the place to himself while he was here for as long as she could remember, and she was ninety-four when she passed.”

“Henriette was the owner, right?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, and sadly the last of the family,” Giles said. “I’m sorry, William.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t have a lot of family when I was alive. Can’t say I’m surprised they’re all gone now.” 

“Well, then we’re certainly glad Buffy’s arrived to brighten up this place, aren’t we?” Jenny said. “I wonder…William, do you remember anything about how you died?”

Giles inhaled sharply and Buffy looked up, her brow furrowed, as William tamped down on the anger swirling through him whenever anyone pried into his death. “No,” he said tersely, pushing away his plate.

“I only ask,” Jenny said gently, “because this loop you’re stuck in seems more like a curse than a run-of-the-mill haunting. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Buffy’s fork clattered to her plate. “A curse?”

“Really, Jenny, I don’t think-” Giles started.

“Like, a curse that could be broken?” Buffy asked. She was finally meeting his eyes again, and William felt hope welling up inside of him. “So that he wouldn’t…didn’t have to go?”

“I don’t know what would happen, Buffy,” Jenny said carefully. “But I’d be happy to help.”

William glanced between them, and then over at Giles. The older man was studying him, a teacup in his hand. “It’s up to you, William,” he said.

William stared at Buffy for a long moment, trying to memorize the exact color of her eyes. An old fear crept up on him, that he’d vanish without a trace, with no one to mourn him or even remember his passing. But if there was a chance he could stay…

“If it’s not an imposition,” he said to Jenny. Buffy’s face lit up and he knew he’d made the right decision.

“Wonderful!” Jenny beamed at him. “Now, tell me everything you can remember from the day you died. I think it could be important.”

“Well,” William mused, trying to catch and hold onto his memories that slipped and slid through his head like shards of ice. “I’d promised mother I’d find the perfect tree for the parlor.” He could picture her face exactly, one of the only things his hazy brain retained. She’d been so excited about celebrating their first official Christmas in America. He’d ruined that for her, something that even a century later he couldn’t forgive himself for.

“William?” Buffy asked, reaching across the table for his hand.

A moment later she was gone.

***

“Oh,” Jenny said, sounding startled. She blinked at the chair where William had been.

Buffy pulled back her empty hands, disappointed. It had been nice to hear a little bit about his family, and about what it’d been like before she came. Giles had been right though, it did sound like William had lived a lonely existence, even as a human. Her heart ached for him. 

Giles pulled one of the containers of food closer and frowned at its contents. “He does that. He’ll pop back up later. He’s been around quite a lot more than usual this time.” He glanced at Buffy over the top of his glasses and she felt herself blush, even if that was nice to hear.

“I think I have some books at the store that might be able to help us,” Jenny mused.

“Books?” Giles said, sounding perkier. Buffy knew he was so the one who’d chosen all the reading material in this place.

“Do you really think we can help him?” she asked Jenny.

“I don’t think it hurts to try,” Jenny said.


	3. Chapter 3

“Buffy, you are seriously playing with fire here,” Willow said. “Snyder’s on a warpath. You know how much he hates this time of year. Someone brought in gingerbread cookies yesterday and I think they got fired.”

“I can’t come back yet.” Buffy let out a frustrated huff. “Can’t you just tell him that I’m out of cell phone range or something, but I’m working on the house stuff?”

She’d finally checked her recharged phone and found a series of increasingly alarmed messages from her friend, who was apparently trying to run interference for her. “Are you?” Willow asked.

“Am I what?”

“Working on the house stuff?” Willow hissed, her voice lowering. “You know how I feel about lying, Buffy.”

“You’re a lawyer, Willow.”

“An honest lawyer!”

“I know,” Buffy soothed. “And I’m working on fixing the problems here, okay?”

“The problems with the house?” Willow asked suspiciously.

“Kind of?”

There was a gasp. “Oh my god. You’ve met someone!”

Buffy sighed. She never could keep a secret from Willow. “Maybe.”

“This is so exciting, Buffy! Who is it? Are they nice? Was it the home inspector guy? Was he all hunky and charming and when he finished with the house he was like, ‘Hey, how about I give you an inspection’?”

Buffy dropped her head onto her hand. “I don’t even want to know what you and Tara are watching in your spare time.”

A giggle came over the line. “Okay, I’ll see if I can buy you some time. But I want details, missy!”

“You’re the best,” Buffy said gratefully.

“I know. Just…be careful.” Buffy could hear the concern in her friend’s voice.

“I’ll try,” Buffy promised. “Bye.”

She pressed end and set her phone down, pulling her hair tie out of her ponytail.

Jenny and Giles had brought piles of old books back from Jenny’s shop, along with an assortment of crystals and herbs and things that made Giles roll his eyes, but only when he was sure Jenny wasn’t looking.

William hadn’t reappeared, and Buffy was starting to get a little worried. Giles had said he often wasn’t around for hours at a time, but they’d already wasted two days of the twelve William had. She wanted to hear more about his life, and his family, and…just more about him. Ten days wasn’t enough time.

***

Buffy sat up, her heart pounding. Jeez, she really had to stop waking up like this. Her room was dark, but there was a deeper shadow by the door. “William?”

The shadow seemed to lift off the floor and pool up on the ceiling as Buffy scrambled out of bed. “William?” she repeated frantically. He wouldn’t hurt her, she was sure of it. Not on purpose anyways.

The shadow swooped towards her and she barely made it to the bathroom, closing and locking it behind her as she frantically flipped on the lights. “Please, William, please stop,” she begged. Something crashed on the other side of the door and she went to perch in the tub, as far from the door as possible. Maybe he was just confused and once he calmed down he’d remember where he was and who she was.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly as the bathroom door rattled in its frame. And then, just as suddenly, everything was quiet. Her eyes popped back open and after waiting for what felt like forever, she opened the door to peer into her bedroom. It was empty and quiet, though her closet door was open and her clothes were scattered all over the floor. Shakily, Buffy gathered them up and stuffed them in her suitcase before crawling back under the covers and staring at the door to her closet until exhaustion overtook her.

***

The next morning, when she dragged herself down the stairs, Giles was once again sitting at the table with his tea and newspaper. “Good morning,” he said politely, looking up. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, punctuating it with a yawn. She shuffled into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks.

William was back.

He was standing at the stove and, as she watched, he slid a perfectly golden pancake onto a plate piled high with other fluffy, golden pancakes. Buffy’s mouth watered and she took a hesitant step forward. “William?”

He whirled around, his usual suit pants and vest over a crisp white shirt a little incongruous with his surroundings. “Buffy,” he said, his eyes wide.

“You’re back,” she breathed

“Giles said I was gone nearly a day,” William said, looking crestfallen. “I didn’t…I mean, I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here,” Buffy said, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him, reaching up to rest her hands against his chest. She eyed the stove behind him. “Are those pancakes just for you, or were you thinking of sharing?”

“Oh, I made enough for every…” William darted a glance at the pancakes, and then down at her face. The shadow of a smirk lifted the edge of his mouth and Buffy’s toes curled. “I think I might be persuaded to share.”

“Oh, good.” Buffy reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and gently pressing a kiss to his mouth. The spatula clattered to the floor beside them and William settled his hands on her hips. His fingers caressed the sliver of bare skin between her pajama bottoms and her tank top as she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like he’d been sneaking pancakes while making them, and her stomach growled. Sheepishly, she pulled back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re an excellent persuader.” William smiled at her. “I’ll bring the pancakes right out.”

“Thank you.” Buffy gave him one last quick kiss before grabbing her coffee and heading back to the dining room.

Giles eyed her over his newspaper. “Coffee seems to have worked miracles,” he said as she took her first sip.

“Yep.”

“Very good.” He disappeared behind his newspaper again, only to drop it a moment later as William came out of the kitchen bearing pancakes. “Ah, and here’s breakfast! Very kind of you to offer to cook, William.”

“I wasn’t sure if Jenny would be here too,” William said, settling into a chair next to Buffy. “I made plenty.”

Giles flushed pink and Buffy giggled as William doled out the pancakes and they all spent a moment adding their preferred toppings. Buffy looked up as William’s fingers brushed against her cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

Buffy grasped his hand and linked their fingers together. “Well enough. It’s okay, I know you don’t remember.”

A shadow crossed William’s face. “Remember what?”

“Last night.” Buffy took a sip of her coffee and squeezed William’s hand reassuringly. “It’s fine. It must be hard, going…wherever you go.”

William furrowed his brow. “I don’t think I really go anywhere. It’s always quite sudden for me, one minute I’m here, and then I’m here again and time has passed.”

“Buffy,” Giles said. “What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just…something was in my room. I figured it was William since he wasn’t around, but I don’t think he could hear me.”

William frowned. “I don’t…I don’t remember anything.”

“I know.” Buffy patted his hand, then returned to her pancakes. “It’s okay. You just tossed my clothes around and stuff. Nothing bad happened.”

“That’s odd,” Giles said. “We don’t usually have those sorts of troubles, even with William. Are you sure it was him?”

“Well, no, but who else could it be?” Buffy looked at Giles’ worried face and William’s troubled one. “I’m fine, seriously, it’s no biggie.”

“Perhaps Jenny could find out,” Giles mused.

Buffy opened her mouth to object, then thought better of it. “She totally could, I bet. You better call her.”

“Yes, quite.”

William lifted an eyebrow at her and she grinned in return as Giles pushed back his chair and headed for the kitchen. “Are you always such a matchmaker?” he asked in amusement.

Buffy shrugged. “Jenny kinda reminds me of my mom.”

“Does she?”

“She and Mom would have been good friends, I think,” Buffy said. “My mom, um, she passed earlier this year.”

William’s entire face crumpled. “Oh, love, I’m so sorry.”

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

He rested his cheek against her head. “Do you think whatever’s in your room was the same thing that returned the pitcher there yesterday?”

“Maybe?” Buffy said. “You really don’t think it was you?”

“I don’t know.” William said thoughtfully, “but we may be able to find out.”

***

“All night?”

“Of course.” William looked offended.

“In the chair?” Buffy asked.

William nodded. “I don’t sleep, really.”

“In my room,” Buffy clarified.

“Perhaps there’s a simpler way to-” Giles interjected.

Jenny elbowed Giles in the ribs, making him cough. “Well, we’re heading out for the night. Nice to see you again, William.”

“But…” Giles said, confused. She ushered him out before he could finish whatever he’d wanted to say.

Buffy dropped the book she’d been reading on the table next to her. It hadn’t been very useful, which seemed to be the theme of the day. Jenny had come by after breakfast, bringing more of her personal library and food from her garden. Buffy hadn’t missed the way the other woman flirted with Giles all day, even if Giles was still mostly oblivious. Jenny had made dinner for them all, and William had only flickered out for an hour during the afternoon before returning. But they’d made no progress.

One more day with William, gone. She wasn’t going to waste any more of them. Even if he had some completely dumb ideas about sitting up all night guarding her from other ghosts.

“Well, I guess I’d better get ready for bed then.” Buffy stood and stretched, enjoying the way William’s eyes followed her every movement.

“I…” William cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I’ll just wait here. Do let me know when you’re ready for me to…come up.” His entire face was bright red.

She brushed her fingers across his cheek. “Now’s good.”

William stared at her, his mouth hanging open slightly. “Um, but…” He took in her jeans and sweater. “Won’t you be uncomfortable like that?”

“William.” Buffy held out her hand. “Come on.”

Hesitantly, he slipped his hand into her grasp and they headed for the stairs, turning out the lights as they went. Anticipation made her heart beat little faster, even if William was being adorably clueless.

They reached her room and Buffy closed the door behind them, twisting the lock. William went straight over to the closet and peered inside suspiciously before turning and taking in the rest of the room. Buffy started to grab her pajamas, then dropped them in favor of just a tank top. She was pretty sure mega-hints were the way to go here.

She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and listened to William prowling around the room, presumably looking at all the knick-knacks they’d used to decorate it. “Was this your room?” she asked.

“No,” William’s voice floated in from the bedroom. “I was further down the hall. This was part of the study. They’ve changed quite a bit up here.” 

Buffy shimmied out of her jeans, sweater and bra, before putting on the tank top. It dipped low in the front, which she thought he’d appreciate, given how he’d looked at her the first night they’d met. She pulled her hair out of the messy topknot she’d put it in while she’d been reading this afternoon and picked up her brush, wandering back into the bedroom.

William was examining a painting on the wall, his hands clasped behind his back and his head tilted slightly to one side. Settling herself on the bed, Buffy began to brush her hair, watching him. He looked so serious most of the time, and she wondered if that was how he’d been in life or if that was a product of his situation now. She much preferred to see him smile.

Finally, he turned towards her, and she was rewarded for her patience with not only a shy smile but a gorgeous blush as he seemed to drink in the sight of her, his eyes dropping to her chest before darting away and coming back a moment later to peruse her bare legs. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away again, moving towards the chair in the corner of the room. “I, er, I’ll just…”

“William.” Buffy crawled to the edge of the bed as he stood, rooted to the spot and watching her with wide eyes. She folded her legs under her and abandoned her brush in favor of reaching up and fiddling with one of the buttons of his vest. His chest rose and fell under her hands. “I don’t want you to stay in the chair all night.”

“You don’t?” he asked, sounding dismayed.

She shook her head and undid one of his vest buttons before moving to the next one. “I think this bed is plenty big enough for both of us.” She made short work of the rest of his vest buttons and reached up to begin with the ones on his shirt, watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“In the…with you?” he said hoarsely.

She looked up at him and paused in her efforts to undress him. “Is that okay?” she asked, uncertainty creeping over her.

“Is that-” He took another deep breath. “Buffy, you’re the most beautiful…I never could have dreamed a more…yes, this is wonderful.” He took her hands in his and gazed down at her, an embarrassed expression washing over his face. “It’s just that I don’t recall ever…well,”

He dropped his gaze to the bed and Buffy’s mouth fell open. A part of her wanted to rejoice that he couldn’t remember ever being with another woman, while the other part was berating herself for not having noticed. She should have realized when he’d seemed confused by French kissing. Though really, he’d taken to that like a duck to water, and she was sure this would be no different.

She managed to find her voice again. “We’ll just have to make sure you don’t forget this time.”

William lifted her hands to his lips, pressing lingering kisses to the backs of them that had her shivering in anticipation. “I could never forget you.”

Buffy wanted so badly for that to be true. Gently, she tugged her hands from his grasp and returned to undoing his shirt buttons. His hand slipped through her hair, then trailed down her cheek before he grasped her chin and tilted her head upward. Buffy gazed up at him and smiled, finally getting the last of his buttons undone. She pushed his shirt aside, only to let out an exasperated sigh.

“How many layers are you wearing?” she asked, poking at his still-covered chest.

William glanced down, frowning. “The usual,” he said.

“Well, get them off, mister.”

“All of them?” he asked, looking up in surprise.

Lifting her eyebrows, Buffy tugged the hem of her tank top up and over her head, tossing it aside. The cool air made her nipples stand to attention, as did the way William was staring at her. “All of them,” she replied.

William shrugged out of his shirt and vest, tugging his undershirt over his head as he sank down to sit on the bed beside her, his eyes locked on her chest. “Buffy,” he said fervently as she carefully plucked his glasses, which had gone askew, off his face and set them on the bedside table before reclining against the pillows and holding out her hands to him.

“Come here and kiss me,” she whispered. William crawled up over her body and captured her lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth as his hand gently cupped her breast. One of his boots hit the floor, followed quickly by the other one. She moaned against his lips encouragingly and reached down to wrestle with the waistband of his pants. His hand pushed hers away and a moment later she gasped as his freed cock came to rest against her palm.

His groan reverberated through her entire body as she stroked him, loving how he felt in her hand. His fingers tugged at her underwear until she was able to wiggle them down and kick them off. He trailed hot, wet kissed down her neck, his cock slipping from her hand as he moved down to kiss her breasts, dragging his tongue across her nipple and making her arch up against him. “William,” she panted. “Please.”

He moved lower, kissing her belly before moving back up to caress her breasts, his cock coming to rest at the apex of her thighs. She lifted her hips in a silent plea and he groaned against her neck. He raised his head and she opened her eyes to find him gazing down at her, his eyes wide and wondering and his hair a wild tangle. “Buffy,” he said hoarsely.

She smiled as she reached down to guide his cock, more than ready to feel him inside of her. It felt like time stopped in that moment. His breath stuttered as he sank deep into her, his shaft stretching her wide as her body welcomed him. She couldn’t look away from his face, her fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. At last, he was fully seated, and she felt his body tremble under her hands. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything more beautiful in her entire life.

She wrapped one leg around his hip and reached up to trail a hand down his face. “Again,” she whispered. He inhaled and pulled back slightly before sliding his cock into her once more. “Just like that,” she groaned, “Oh, William.”

He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and began to thrust in earnest, making her gasp as she tried to match his rhythm. His hands were tucked under her, holding her close, and he was panting in her ear and making unintelligible noises that, from his worshipful tone, she took as compliments.

His hips stuttered and she realized both with pride and dismay that he was already peaking. He groaned, his cock jerking inside of her, and she slid a hand soothingly down his back as he finished. She loved the feel of his body under her hands. She didn’t want to ever give him up. 

William lifted his head, a blissful expression on his face. “My Buffy,” he crooned, kissing her clumsily. She giggled and returned his kiss, wrapping her other leg around his hip as he tried to pull back, keeping him from withdrawing. She could feel her lower belly tighten, her orgasm just out of reach. “Wait,” she murmured, reaching up to tangle a hand in his hair. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Frowning down at her, William searched her face worriedly. “What’s wrong?” he asked in dismay. “Did I do something-”

Shushing him gently, Buffy ran her feet up the back of his thighs. “No,” she reassured him. “It was wonderful. Just…” She bit her lip. “I’m not ready to be done with you.” William’s face was a gorgeous mix of astonishment and happiness. She pushed him up until he was propped on his hands over her. “Now,” she took his hand and guided it down to her needy clit. “Touch me just here,” she whispered.

William sat back a bit more, his softening cock slipping part way out of her body as he began to slowly rub her sensitive clit with his thumb. His look of utter concentration, along with the feeling of his cock swelling back to life, brought her to orgasm faster than she’d thought possible. She cried out his name as her hips jerked off the bed and he watched her intently.

Trying to catch her breath, Buffy slumped back against the pillows, her whole body tingling. William propped himself up over her, his face just inches from hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Buffy pulled him down for another kiss.

***

Sunlight streaming through the window woke her up, and Buffy stretched, her body aching pleasantly. Reaching out one hand, she encountered only empty bed beside her. Rolling to one side, she sighed sadly. She was alone. She supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise, really, but she wished she could have woken up with him.

She’d just have to content herself with the memory of falling asleep in his arms after two more rounds of lovemaking. As she suspected, he’d been a quick study.

A lustful shiver ran down her spine and she giggled into her pillow before picking up her head and groping for her pajamas. She’d better go find some coffee so she could try and kickstart her brain into gear. Right now it was stuck on a naked William loop that she was pretty sure wasn’t going to be helpful in trying to figure out how to un-curse him. Even if it was way more fun.


	4. Chapter 4

“Morning, Giles,” she said cheerfully as she cut through the dining room, heading for the kitchen.

“Er, morning?” he said, peering at her over his paper with eyebrows raised. “Coffee’s in-”

Buffy waved her thanks, pushing aside her disappointment at not finding William downstairs. She hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long this time.

Wandering into the kitchen, she stopped dead in her tracks.

He was here.

William was standing at the stove, humming under his breath and stirring something in a pan while the glorious scent of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen.

He was here and apparently making breakfast. Buffy wondered if she was the one who had died because this was pretty much heaven.

“Buffy!” He turned and spotted her, a wide smile blooming on his face. She couldn’t stop her answering smile if she’d tried. He’d tied an apron around his waist and had a smudge of something on his cheek, and he was here.

Coffee momentarily forgotten, Buffy stepped closer to him and took the hand he held out to her that wasn’t wielding a spatula. “You’re here.”

William pulled her close and rested his cheek on her head, inhaling deeply. “You’re here, too.” She tilted her head back and he kissed her sweetly before pulling away. “I didn’t want to wake you. How would you like your eggs?”

Buffy grinned. “Scrambled, please.”

“As my lady commands,” he said grandly. Buffy went up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, this time wrapping her arms around his neck as she parted her lips and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. He groaned, and she heard the spatula clatter to the floor.

“William,” she whispered. He hummed questioningly, kissing his way down her throat. “The eggs?”

Sighing, he released her and turned back to the stove, looking around for his spatula. Buffy picked it up off the floor and went over to the sink to wash it, returning it to him a minute later. “What would I do without you.” He leaned down and planted another kiss on her lips.

Somewhere deep inside, Buffy could feel a bubble of fear forming. She didn’t want him to be without her. She didn’t want him to be anywhere but beside her for a very, very long time. Possibly forever. But they only had days left. “Probably burn breakfast,” she replied lightly.

William laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and she wanted to take this moment and freeze it forever.

***

“Are you sure this will work?” Giles asked, sounding doubtful.

William had doubts of his own. Jenny had arrived shortly after breakfast with candles and herbs and more books, announcing she was going to get to the bottom of Buffy’s strange nighttime visitations. She’d taken up a rug in the parlor and drawn some strange symbols on the floor while Buffy set up candles according to Jenny’s instructions.

He sincerely hoped whatever she’d used on his floors came off as easily as she’d assured him it would. Although he supposed they weren’t really his floors much longer. He darted a look at Buffy and she lifted her head, seeming to sense he was watching her. He’d hardly been able to keep his eyes off her all day. She was wearing a sweater that matched her eyes, the front of it a deep vee that made him want to peel it off of her so they could get back to enjoying each other the way they’d done last night.

He'd long ago resigned himself to an eternity of loneliness, his ultimate fate. He hadn’t been sure what it was he’d done in his life to deserve such a torment, but now…he looked over at Buffy again, her golden hair catching the last rays of sunlight streaming in through the window. Perhaps it was worth it if it had allowed him to meet this woman.

He’d been flickering in and out more than usual today, though he hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes at a time. He wondered if yesterday hadn’t strained whatever mechanism his body used to keep him corporeal. Usually, it didn’t matter how much time he actually spent in the house since it was just him, but this year he wanted every second he could grasp. He could feel time slipping through his fingers like water.

“Okay,” Jenny said, rocking back on her heels. “I think we’re ready.” She stepped into the center of one of the drawings she’d done and carefully settled herself into a cross-legged position before looking up expectantly at William.

Heaving a sigh, William stepped into the smaller drawing she’d made for him, apparently to keep his ghostly self from interfering with whatever she was trying to do. Buffy watched him anxiously, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Buffy-” Jenny began.

“Wait.” Buffy crossed the room and reached out, grasping his wrist and tugging him closer, careful to keep her feet away from the lines Jenny had drawn on the floor. William leaned towards her, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll be here,” she whispered, pressing a quick, fierce kiss to his lips before releasing him.

Not trusting his voice, William nodded at her as she stepped back. He didn’t deserve a woman such as her. He had nothing to offer, and yet, somehow, she’d woken up hopes inside of him he’d thought were dead and buried.

He watched as Buffy methodically lit the candles and Jenny closed her eyes, a selection of crystals on the floor in front of her. William crossed his arms, noticing Giles doing the same thing not far away, his gaze squarely on Jenny and a frown on his face.

A faint breeze ruffled his hair and William glanced towards the foyer, but the front door was firmly shut. Jenny began to chant as the breeze picked up, and the last thing he saw was Buffy’s anxious face.

***

 It was dark, and the house was quiet. William moved to the sideboard and lit a candle with a shaking hand, glancing towards the stairs. How long had he been gone? He went into the parlor to check the clock and stopped in his tracks, a smile flitting across his face.

Buffy was curled up on the settee under a blanket, her hair tumbling over the arm and her face relaxed in sleep. She was here.

Quietly, so as not to wake her, he unlaced his boots and left them in the corner of the room. In his stocking feet, he went over to the bookshelves and picked one a book before moving towards the settee. The chair was still pulled up near it and he sat down, leaving the candle on a nearby table and opening his book. He reached out with one hand and gently stroked Buffy’s hair, unable to keep from touching her when she was so close. She sighed in her sleep and he returned his attention to his book, keeping one hand on her hair.

“You’re back,” she whispered, startling him.

He looked up and saw her watching him, her eyes bright with something that looked like happiness. His heart lurched in his chest.

“I’m back,” he replied.

“You’re reading?” she yawned, sitting up and pushing her blanket away. He mourned the loss of her hair under his fingertips.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why do you think I fell asleep down here?” she asked, her tone amused.

He frowned. “Is that thing still in your room?”

“The thing?” Buffy repeated in confusion. “Oh, the other ghost? No. I mean, it’s probably still there, but I was waiting for you.”

“Oh,” William said in awe.

“And now you’re here,” she said, her hand landing on his knee and creeping upwards.

“Yes,” he managed, before registering what she’d said. “There’s another ghost?”

Buffy’s hand stopped moving. “Oh, yeah. Jenny thinks there might be two more, actually, besides you.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Giles was a little freaked, but luckily Jenny knew where he keeps the scotch.”

She slid off the settee and onto her knees in front of him, resting her head in his lap. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said softly.

William ran a hand through her shining hair. “Me too,” he said.

Her fingertips tapped against the cover of his book. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Just…ah, just an old favorite.”

Buffy squinted at the worn title. “Will you read it to me?” she asked.

“What?”

She picked up her head. “I like your voice. Will you read it to me?”

“They’re…they’re poems, Buffy,” he confessed.

“That sounds nice,” she said, laying her head in his lap again.

He waited for her to laugh about his choice of reading material, but she just closed her eyes. He rested his hand on her head and felt the wisps of hope inside of him become a little more substantial. He wanted to crack himself open so she could see how she’d filled all the nooks and crevices inside of him. She had wormed her way into his very marrow.

Shifting in his seat to keep his unruly cock, which had also been delighted to see her, from pressing against her cheek, William opened the book, flipping to one of his favorites. He cleared his throat.

“ _Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,_ ” he began, his fingers slipping through Buffy’s hair.

She nuzzled against his thigh as he stumbled through the next line, and his cock swelled further in response. Her hand crept up his leg and he jumped a little as she traced the length of his arousal with one fingertip. “Keep going,” she whispered.

William cleared his throat and valiantly tried to find his place. “ _Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown,_ ”

Buffy’s nimble fingers had undone his trousers, exposing his cock to the night air and her curious gaze. William’s hand dug into the arm of the chair as she wrapped her hand around it. “Buffy?” he rasped.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured.

William was certain his heart was going to thunder right out of his chest. “ _Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest…_ ” He gasped as she opened her mouth and drew the head of his cock into her mouth. He’d heard of such things but hadn’t imagined it had felt quite so…like being enveloped in love. He was surrounded by heat as her lips slid down his shaft and her tongue traveled the length of it, making his eyes roll back in his head as she took more of him in her mouth.

She looked up at him, her mouth full of his cock, and it took him several seconds to remember what he’d been doing. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to focus on the page in front of him. “ _Scatter thy silver dew_   _On every flower that shuts its s-sweet eyes,_ ” he stuttered.

Buffy rewarded him by sucking him in deeper before pulling back and sliding her mouth back down. The words were swimming in front of William’s face and he gave up pretending he didn’t have the damn thing memorized in the first place.

“ _In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on._ ” The book dropped to the floor with a thud as he tangled his hands into her hair and Buffy did something absolutely delightful with her tongue. He barely got the next few lines out, his mind wanting to sink into the bliss she was giving him. She moaned, the sound traveling along the length of his cock and making his hips jerk upwards.

“ _Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence,_ ” William gasped, giving himself over to pleasure as Buffy reached down and cradled his balls in her palm. His cock jerked in her mouth and he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He tried to pull her away but she just clamped her lips more tightly around him as his cock pulsed. She drank down his spendings while he watched dazedly.

When at last he’d finished, she released him, pressing a kiss the tip of his softening cock and gazing up at him.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

He made a noise that he hoped she’d take as agreement.

She stood and leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his lips and giving him a lovely view of her breasts under her shirt. The candlelight flickered across her face and he realized he was going to love her until his last breath, whether that was tomorrow or a thousand years from now. He couldn’t find his voice.

“Come to bed?” she asked, holding out her hand. William grasped the hand she offered him, holding his trousers closed with the other.

She blew out the candle, and he followed her upstairs.

***

“Buffy, seriously, how much longer are you going to be up there?” Willow sounded distracted. “No, Gary, I’ve told you a thousand times, blue and silver!”

“Everything okay?” Buffy asked, fidgeting nervously. She’d woken up to find William had disappeared again, and he hadn’t shown up for breakfast either. She knew it was probably silly to miss a guy she’d only met a few days ago, but she did. She missed him so much she kept finding herself curling up in the chair he’d sat in last night, trying to find him in the shape of the cushions.

“No, everything is not okay!” Willow hissed. “We’re missing one of our best paralegals because she’s holed up with some guy upstate, and the new kid can’t tell a subpoena from a deposition.”

Buffy winced. “Um, he’s really great at coffee runs?”

“Is he?” Willow sounded perkier. “Gary, get me a double latte, extra shot, with almond milk and one sugar!” There was a pause. “Wow, he didn’t even write it down. When are you coming home? Snyder is getting super suspicious.”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe after Christmas?” Buffy said, pulling her legs up and sitting cross-legged on her bed.

Willow let out a loud gasp. “Christmas?” she squeaked. There was the sound of a door slamming. “Buffy, I’m worried. It is really unlike you to drop everything for some guy. What’s really going on up there?” Her voice dropped even further. “If you’re being held hostage, just say, um, snowflake cookies.”

“I am not being held hostage,” Buffy said, amused despite herself. “But thank you for worrying. I really wish I could explain, it’s just…there’s a lot going on, and William-”

“Aha, his name is William!” Willow exclaimed triumphantly. “Hang on.” There were ten seconds of silence. “Okay, I’m back.”

“You just texted Tara, didn’t you?”

“Well, she’s been wondering too! Look, I don’t know if I can stall Snyder that long. I think he stopped believing the no-cell-service excuse two days ago. Just come home for a few days to get Snyder off your back, then you can go back up there and spend New Year’s with him or something.”

Buffy’s heart lurched in her chest. By New Year’s, William could be long gone. “I’ll try,” she said.

That seemed to placate Willow. “Okay, good. I’ll see you soon.” The call ended before Buffy could say goodbye.

She spent a moment staring at her phone, wishing she could hear William’s voice again before she left. Maybe she could ask him to read another poem. She smoothed her hand over the quilt on the bed. She hated to go when they had so little time left, but she couldn’t see another way. 

“Buffy!” Jenny’s voice drifted up from downstairs. “Are you ready to go?”

Buffy squared her shoulders. “Be down in a minute!”

Jenny had managed to find a few books on curses—and who knew there were whole books about curses? —but despite Giles’ knowledge of the history of the house, even he had to admit the story surrounding William’s death was more rumor and legend than fact. They needed more information, and that meant musty old buildings and government documents. Two things Buffy had some experience with.

She just wished it wasn’t taking her away from the inn.

She came down the stairs with her suitcase, knowing she was dragging her feet in the hopes that William would appear.

Giles and Jenny were waiting in the foyer. “I suppose I could try and muddle through the county archives,” Giles offered, his brow creasing in concern.

“It once took you ten minutes to figure out how to use my microwave,” Jenny said in amusement. Giles scowled at her and she patted his arm. “You've been wonderful with the research, but I’m afraid they’ve digitized a ton of old documents in the last few years.”

“Bloody computers,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay, Giles.” Buffy attempted a smile. “It’s for a good cause.”

“Er, quite,” he replied. “And I’ve got a few things I’ve got to get in order here.”

Buffy nodded distractedly, peering into the parlor, but it remained stubbornly empty.

“We’ll call when we get there. Hopefully it won’t take more than a day or two for us to find what we need,” Jenny said.

Giles cleared his throat, drawing Buffy’s attention. “I’ll catch him up on things,” he added gently.

Jenny ushered her out of the house to the car, tossing their things into the trunk before they started down the road. Buffy stared out the window at the snow-covered hills in the distance.

“Jenny?”

“Hm?” Jenny looked over at her briefly before turning her attention back to the icy roads.

“If we do break William’s curse, I mean when we do.” Buffy watched the inn’s reflection in the side-view mirror receding into the distance.  “Will he still be a ghost?”

Jenny blew out a breath, fidgeting with the crystal on a long chain she was wearing as a necklace. “Buffy, I don’t know what will happen, but…” Jenny glanced over, her expression sympathetic. “Most of the time, when you’re breaking a curse, you’re trying to reset the natural order of things.”

Buffy focused on the road in front of them, hating that she already knew the answer to the next question she was going to ask. “He’s going to move on, or whatever they call it, isn’t he?” A tear slipped down her cheek.

Jenny reached over and put her hand over Buffy’s. “He’s been dead for over a hundred years. Doesn’t he deserve some peace?”

Buffy swiped angrily at her eyes. “I just wish…I don’t want him to go.”

Jenny squeezed her hand. “Maybe you won’t see him again in this lifetime,” she said softly, “But I’d bet anything you two will meet again someday.”

Buffy nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

***

“They’ll be back when they can,” Giles said, sounding exasperated and pouring another inch of scotch into his glass.

William glared at him and barely withheld a growl of anger. The house didn’t feel right without Buffy in it, it was colder and darker and too empty. He would do anything to have her come down the stairs and hurl a pitcher at him. She could smash it into pieces for all he cared, as long as she was standing there in front of him.

“Don’t give me that look,” Giles grumbled. “They’re trying to help you.”

William stomped out of the kitchen and into the parlor, standing in the bay window and staring out at the snow. It was coming down hard, and in most circumstances, he’d have appreciated it for keeping people away. But right now it was keeping Buffy away, and he only had days left until he disappeared again. He hated that he couldn’t seem to control the timing of his visits and that his memory was a leaky sieve that had been so useless she’d had to go away in the first place.

Maybe next year…but it was foolish to think she’d wait an entire year just to see him again. She had her whole life ahead of her, and he’d been dead for over a hundred years. It nearly killed him to think of her with someone else, but what did he have to offer her? All he could do was take advantage of what little time they had together. If she’d even want something to do with him at all after sifting through the relics of his past, pathetic life. His fingers were stained from the amount of ink he’d spilled this afternoon, trying to record every moment they’d spent together. He’d even attempted a stanza or two, something he hadn’t done in years, judging by the age of the last entry in his journal.

Giles had come into the parlor and was standing beside him, quietly contemplating the snowstorm outside. “You know,” Giles mused. “Perhaps we could arrange a bit of a surprise for when they return.”

William turned to the other man. “Like what?”

“Well.” Giles shrugged. “It is nearly Christmas.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Nearly home,” Jenny said. Buffy almost corrected her before realizing she’d felt more at home since she’d come to the inn than she ever had in the city. Jenny steered the car around the last curve and they both gasped.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Buffy asked.

“Well, I guess someone’s kept himself busy,” Jenny said, slowing the car as they approached the inn.

Buffy couldn’t help but stare. The inn was glowing. White lights outlined every window, snaking along the eaves and wrapping around the porch railing. Even the fence was lined with lights that reflected off the snow in a kaleidoscope of color, illuminating long swags of greenery punctuated by an occasional festive red bow.

Jenny parked in front of the house and they both got out. The air was sharp and cold, but Buffy just pulled her fuzzy hat down further over her ears, gazing in awe. Were those wreaths in the windows? She held her breath for a moment, waiting to see if William would appear in one of them, but they remained stubbornly empty. She let out a sigh.

“Should we go in?” Jenny nudged her arm, setting Buffy’s suitcase on the frozen front walk.

“Oh.” Buffy shook herself. “Yes.” She picked up her bag just as the front door opened.

“You’re here,” Giles' voice was filled with relief. “Oh, thank the lord.”

“The roads weren’t that bad, Rupert,” Jenny said.

“If I have to hear one more bloody rendition of Clair De Lune I’m going to go mad,” he declared, swaying slightly. “I think I liked him better when he was just an irritable recluse.”

“One of those in the house is probably more than enough,” Jenny said, sounding amused. “Can I give you a ride home?”

Buffy headed for the porch steps. Now that Giles had mentioned it, she could hear the piano playing faintly in the distance.

William was inside.

“You’re very nice,” Giles said as Jenny helped him down the porch steps. “Have I mentioned that before?”

“Once or twice. Careful of the ice, Rupert.” His arm was slung over Jenny’s shoulders.

“And pretty,” he said. “Have I mentioned that too?”

Buffy distractedly waved goodbye before dragging her suitcase into the foyer, closing the front door and spinning around in anticipation. The piano kept playing. Had he not heard her come in? She frowned and pulled off her hat and jacket as she headed for the parlor.

William was sitting at the piano with his back to her, his profile lit by the white lights of a Christmas tree. 

Crossing the room, Buffy reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “William?”

His hands stilled, and the last note faded. “You came back,” he said softly.

“Of course I did.” She slid in next to him on the piano bench and his arm curled around her waist. He leaned his head against hers, nuzzling her temple.

“Did you find what you needed to know?” There was a pause. “About me?” he whispered.

Buffy pulled back, startled. “We did, William.” She gazed at him worriedly, her hand drifting up to caress the side of his neck where they said he’d been horribly injured.

“And you still came back?” He sounded mystified. “Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a shuddering breath before opening them again, staring at her intently.

Buffy reached up and trailed her fingers along his jaw. “I’m glad you’re here.” She leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to his lips. “The house looks beautiful.”

The start of a smile lifted the edge of his mouth. “It does, now that you’re in it.”

“You are way too good at that, mister.”

“Good at what?” William’s brow furrowed.

Shaking her head, Buffy leaned in for another kiss. “Nothing, just…at being you, I guess.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised as she tucked her head against the crook of his neck and let out a contented sigh, all the tension of the last couple of days draining away. William’s hand glided up and down her back. “I missed you, too,” he murmured, his hand sliding under the hem of her sweater to reach her bare skin.

Buffy wiggled a little closer, pressing against him from hip to shoulder. She kissed his throat as his hands pushed her sweater higher, lifting her arms so he could tug it off. His gaze dropped to her lacy bra, and she shivered though she was far from cold now.

Cupping her breast in one hand, William kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she tangled a hand into his hair. “Can I…?” His voice trailed off as Buffy began to unbutton his vest.

“Yes.”

“I haven’t even asked yet.”

“The answer is yes. Possibly followed by please.”

William’s lips curled up in a smile that had the edge of a smirk to it, and a thrill ran down Buffy’s spine. She loved to see him happy. “All right.” He started to stand.

“Wait!” Buffy grasped his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, I promise.” William slid off the piano bench and knelt as she turned so her back was to the keys. The look of concentration on his face as he unzipped her boots had her biting her lip to keep from giggling, afraid of ruining this moment. She wasn’t sure why he’d been so surprised to see her come back. The bits and pieces of his life she’d read about only made him more endearing.

She slid a hand through his hair before lifting her hips so he could slide her jeans off, followed by her panties. William made a contented noise, gazing up at her from where he knelt between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

He pushed her legs further apart, and Buffy reached behind her, bracing herself against the piano. She could feel herself growing wet with anticipation as he drank in the sight of her before slipping two fingers into her channel, pumping them slowly. Her head fell back and she whimpered in disappointment as he pulled them out again.

A moment later she gasped, jerking her head up and watching in wonder as he flicked his tongue against her clit before probing her opening with just the tip, his eyes raising to meet hers. “Oh, William,” she said breathlessly. His eyes crinkled at the corners and then he was licking in earnest, using his lips and tongue to drive her towards orgasm as she tried to keep from sliding off the piano bench.

Vaguely, she could hear discordant notes ringing through the study, but she was distracted by the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart as William seemed to make it his life’s work to learn exactly how she liked to be touched. Maybe she should tell him what mattered most was that it was him, but that would require talking and it was hard to form words.

One of his hands was on her hip and the other caressing the inside of her thigh as he moaned against her core, his tongue seeking out her clit again. She hung on tight as her climax rolled through her, her vision blurring for a moment as she cried out her pleasure.

She was panting as she floated back down, becoming aware that she’d twisted a hand into William’s hair and was holding it tight. She loosened her grip sheepishly, but he just leaned his cheek against her thigh and gazed up at her, looking incredibly pleased with himself. Buffy pushed herself off the piano bench to the tune of a couple of random musical notes and perched in William’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Good?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“Absolutely terrible,” she deadpanned. “We’re going to have to practice a lot more.”

William laughed and she tried to commit the gorgeous, lilting tone of it to memory.

Her old life in New York felt so far away, but she knew this couldn’t last, no matter how she wished it would.

***

The doorbell rang and the tension in the parlor, already high, ratcheted up a notch. Today they were going to see if they could release the other spirits from the house before freeing William from his curse. A trial run, Jenny had called it. Buffy hated that she hoped, deep down, it might not work. William twelve days a year would never be enough, but at least she’d still have those twelve days.

“That’ll be Jenny,” Giles said, rising from his chair and heading for the front door.

 Buffy had been watching William pace restlessly while surreptitiously snapping photos of him with her phone. She probably had hundreds of them by now, but she was certain she’d never have enough. 

“Hello,” Giles said in surprise from the other room. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the season.”

William stopped his pacing and glared in the direction of the foyer.

“Don’t give me that, mister,” someone said. “I know for a fact Buffy is staying here and I want to see her!” There was a brief lull. “Um, please.”

“Now see here,” Giles began as Buffy scrambled up from her seat on the couch.

She shook her head as William scowled harder. “It’s okay, it’s just Willow.” She headed for the foyer and pasted on a bright smile as her friend came into view. “Willow! And Tara! This is a surprise.” She stepped in front of a confused-looking Giles and gave them each a hug.

Willow was still eyeing Giles suspiciously. “We wanted to check on you, that’s all.”

“Well, here I am, just peachy keen,” Buffy said.

Willow’s eyes narrowed. “Uh huh.” She took a step into the house. “I guess you’re William?” she said to Giles, sounding doubtful.

“What?” Giles darted a confused glance at Buffy. “Uh, no. He’s…why do you ask?”

“Sorry I’m late!” Jenny came scurrying up the walk, her eyes downcast as she watched for icy spots with her arms full of books and candles.

Tara lifted her eyebrows. “Late to…” she tilted her head and regarded the books, “A cursing?”

“Oh.” Jenny jerked her head up. “Uh, hello?”

“You might as well come in,” Buffy said in resignation. “Jenny, Giles, these are my friends, Willow and Tara.” 

“So, if you’re not William, who it?” Willow asked Giles curiously.

“Well,” he began.

“I’m William,” a low voice behind Buffy said. William slid his arms around her waist and tucked her back against his chest. She felt herself relax, even if she was so in for a best friend interrogation later. “And this is my house.”

Willow stared, her mouth hanging slightly open. “Uh, wow, okay?” She shot Tara a perplexed look, but her girlfriend just shrugged.

“Would you care for some tea?” Giles asked, taking a stack of books from Jenny. She smiled up at him and his cheeks reddened as he smiled back.

“Sure?” Tara said. She seemed to be contemplating William, who still had a tight grip around Buffy’s middle, before turning back to Jenny. “Is that fresh sage?”

“Hm? Oh, yep.” Jenny held out a handful of greenery. “I try to always have some on hand.”

“It’s so hard to find good quality herbs this time of year,” Tara said.

“I have my own greenhouse,” Jenny replied cheerfully, leading the way into the dining room.

“Why are they here?” William whispered into Buffy’s hair.

“I don’t know.” Buffy patted his clasped hands. “But I’m glad you got to meet them. Now try and be nice.”

William’s arms loosened slightly and he let out a heavy sigh. “If I must.”

***

“Anyways, I thought you’d want to know.” Willow sipped her tea, her gaze darting to William and then back to Buffy curiously.

Buffy nodded, feeling numb. She hadn’t thought someone else at the office would be fielding offers on the inn directly, but she should have known Snyder wouldn’t have trusted her to do this on her own. He probably didn’t trust his own mother.

William was staring at the table, his jaw clenched and his tea untouched. “Who’s buying it?” he ground out. Buffy grasped his hand under the table and held on tight.

Willow shrugged. “I didn’t get a name. But they’re trying to close as fast as possible. It’s pretty much a done deal, Buffy. Snyder’s expecting you back at the office, like, yesterday.”

“But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. We won’t have to leave, will we?” Buffy turned to look at Jenny in desperation, but the other woman just looked at Giles. “We just…there’s only one more day.”

“Erm.” Giles tentatively lifted a hand from his end of the table.

“One more day for what?” Willow asked. “What is going on with you guys? I mean, Buffy, you’re supposed to be working on selling this place, not moving in and going all out on the Christmas decorations. And your new boyfriend’s dressed all fancy even though it’s the middle of the day, and…” She stopped suddenly, letting out a gasp. “Oh my god, are you eloping? You’re eloping. Were you even going to tell me?”

“What?” Buffy said in alarm. “We’re not-”

“Boyfriend?” William repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Buffy’s heart clenched, and she tried to tug her hand away, but William held it fast. “Nothing,” she said, barely able to get the word out as her heart sank.

“Good lord,” Giles muttered. “Enough!” Everyone stopped, their heads swiveling in his direction.

“William, it means suitor. Buffy, I made the offer on the inn, and Willow, they are not eloping.” He peered at Buffy over the top of his glasses. “That I’m aware of.”

“Oh,” William said, curling his hand tighter around Buffy’s. “Well, yes, I suppose I am.” Buffy relaxed against him and he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Wait.” Buffy sat up straight again. “You put in the offer?” She stared at Giles in astonishment.

“With a bit of help.” He glanced at Jenny.

“So, you’re not getting married?” Willow clarified.

William’s cheeks flushed pink. “Ah, no, I’m Buffy’s…boyfriend.”

Willow set down her teacup. “How did you guys meet?” 

“Um,” Buffy began. “Funny story, actually. I surprised him the first night he…he came back and-” William disappeared in the next second, making Buffy tip towards his empty chair before she caught herself. “Shoot,” she muttered.

Willow blinked at the space where William had been and then down at her teacup. “Uh, did anyone else see that?”

Buffy sighed. “And William’s a ghost.”

Willow stared at her.

“Huh,” Tara said thoughtfully. “I thought his aura was kinda funky.”

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Giles said.

***

 Buffy woke up slowly, trying to place the sound that must have dragged her from sleep. It was soft and hurried, and, as she blinked her eyes open, it stopped.

Moonlight filtering in around the edges of the curtains allowed her to see a familiar shape perched on the end of her bed. She sat up, clutching the blankets to her chest and smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “William,” she breathed.

“Sorry to wake you,” he whispered, tucking whatever he was holding behind his back.

“Don’t you dare apologize. If you hadn’t I would have…” Buffy extended her hand to him. “I don’t know, done something. I’m so glad you’re here, William.” He slipped off the bed and set a small book on a nearby table before rejoining her and taking her hand. “What were you writing?”

“Ah, nothing.” She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was blushing. He linked their fingers together and brushed a kiss across the back of her hand. “Things I don’t want to forget, that’s all.”

Buffy blinked back tears. “William, tomorrow, when-”

“Don’t.” He shook his head at her, his voice hoarse. “Please, love, don’t…let’s not talk about tomorrow.”

Trying to rein in her emotions, Buffy nodded. “Alright. Are you coming to bed?”

His grip on her hand tightened and he leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss against her lips. “If you’d like.”

Buffy tangled a hand into his hair and tugged him closer. “I very much would like,” she murmured.

William released her hand, his kiss turning hungry and demanding as she reached down to undo his the buttons of his vest only to find he’d beaten her to it. Well, she’d just have to help with something else then. Sliding her fingers down to the front of his pants, she traced the outline of his cock before pressed the heel of her palm against it. “Buffy,” he gasped.

“Need you,” she murmured against his mouth, catching his lower lip between her teeth and sucking on it.

She heard his boots thump to the floor and the rustle of clothes as he finished undressing before crawling up onto the bed. Buffy twisted, trying to get her tank top off with one hand while simultaneously pulling him closer. He helped her yank her shirt off, growling impatiently, before returning to kissing the breath out of her.

Shoving the blankets to one side, William trailed a hand down her chest, caressing each of her breasts before moving southward and hooking a finger into the waistband of her panties. “Off,” he panted, his mouth moving up to nibble on her earlobe as she wiggled out of her underwear. William settled himself over her, his cock sliding against her aching clit and making her moan.

Buffy wrapped a leg around his hip, urging him on as he bent to suck on one of her nipples until it was hard enough to cut glass before moving to the other one. He guided his cock to her opening, teasing her with the head of it as she wiggled impatiently.

“I swear I’ll never forget, Buffy,” he choked out. “Never.”

A tear leaked out of her eye and trailed down Buffy’s cheek as he pushed himself, slow and steady, inside of her, stretching her wide. He stopped when he was fully seated, propping himself over her and capturing her lips for a long, unhurried kiss. Buffy rocked up against him, but he didn’t move. “William,” she gasped, lifting her hips again.

He shushed her and kissed a path up her jaw. “We have all night,” he murmured. “No need to rush.”

Buffy’s eyes rolled up in her head as he began to roll his hips, driving himself deeper into her without pulling back. His pelvis was grinding against her clit and she wrapped her other leg around his waist to keep him close. He fisted a hand into her hair and laid a line of sucking kisses down her throat as she gave herself over to him.

He might not remember her after tonight, but she was always going to treasure the memories they’d made.

***

“Okay, you want me to do the same thing as before?” Willow asked.

“Just light the candles once Tara and I begin,” Jenny said distractedly.

Tara was arranging a bundle of herbs and helping Jenny finish another chalk drawing on the floor of the parlor as the rest of them looked on. Giles was standing by the piano with his arms crossed and a frown on his face while Willow hovered near her girlfriend. Buffy thought she should be surprised that Tara knew nearly as much about all this supernatural stuff as Jenny seemed to, but she couldn’t muster up the energy.

They’d done the trial run yesterday after William had disappeared and Willow had finally run out of questions to ask. Tara had listened quietly to the whole story of William and the inn and then asked how she could help. Jenny had immediately put her to work.

Buffy had watched in silence while Jenny had directed the others to help cleanse the house, part of her wanting to tell them all that she’d changed her mind. The shadow in her closet wasn’t so bad. If it meant keeping William around, she’d gladly put up with a shadow in every room.

The house cleansing had been a success, and Buffy had tried not to resent them as Tara and Jenny had spent all of dinner excitedly discussing the different spirits they’d encountered that had apparently been drawn to the inn because of William’s curse. Buffy had hardly been able to eat at all, her eyes trained on the door as she waited for William to reappear.

She wasn’t ready to let him go, but it was Christmas Eve and they were out of time.

Buffy was curled up in William’s lap on the couch with his arms wound around her waist and his head tucked against the crook of her neck. She was holding onto him just as tightly, and she could feel him press an occasional kiss to her throat.

No one had said much of anything to her or William since they’d finally emerged from her bedroom this afternoon, unable to put things off any longer. Buffy was grateful since she doubted she’d be able to speak past the lump in her throat. Giles had turned on the Christmas lights as the sun had set, but even that bit of cheer couldn’t distract from the fact that she was losing William forever.

She wanted to tell them all to go away and leave her and William alone, but even if they did he’d just disappear until next year and then she’d face the same agonizing choice all over again. She buried her face against the crown of his head and inhaled, trying to memorize everything about him.

“It’s ready,” Jenny said.

Buffy shuddered, and William’s arms tightened around her until she couldn’t take a deep breath. Something wet slid down the bare skin of her neck and she was barely able to hold back her own tears.

“It’s not midnight yet,” Buffy said desperately. “Can we just wait until…until later?”

“It’s time, Buffy,” Jenny said softly.

Buffy swallowed her protests and reluctantly climbed to her feet, clasping William’s hand tightly. She forced her feet to cross the floor beside him as he walked stiffly to the chalk drawing and stopped at the edge of it.

Turning to her, William cradled her face in his hands and leaned in until they were practically sharing breath. “I wish there was another way,” he whispered.

“I know,” Buffy choked out. She closed the short distance between them and kissed him gently before he released her.

Everyone else seemed to be studying something in different parts of the room as William stepped over the drawing and stood in the center, standing straight and tall. Jenny and Tara began to chant, and it took everything Buffy had not to drag William out of the circle and hide him away.

He kept his gaze steady on her, the blue in his eyes dark in the dim lighting. The festive Christmas atmosphere of the room seemed to mock her as the wind picked up, making the ornaments on the tree clink together.

She almost hoped it wouldn’t work, then immediately felt horribly guilty. Jenny was right, William deserved more than to be stuck halfway between this world and the next, without his memories or family for the rest of eternity. She could feel tears coursing down her cheeks, but she tried to smile at him anyways.

Buffy curled her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. The breeze ruffled his hair and the candles began to flare. “I love you, William,” she blurted.

William’s eyes widened. His lips parted as though he was about to speak…and then he was gone.

Buffy’s legs wobbled but someone caught her before she hit the floor. The tears in her eyes were making it hard to see and it felt like her heart was cracking into pieces.

“Put her on the couch,” Willow said from somewhere far away. “Oh, Buffy, you really do love him, don’t you?”


	6. Chapter 6

William lurched forward and nearly fell in the deep snow. Shivering, he looked up at the trees overhead that were casting deep shadows across the path he was traveling. A bracing breeze whipped through the branches.

Memories flitted through his mind like hummingbirds, flashes of faces and snippets of conversation that he couldn’t quite catch. He realized he had something in his hand, and turned to find he’d been pulling a sled behind him, one that contained a felled evergreen. Right, it was Christmas, and he had to get this back to the house before the sun got any lower and his mother began to worry.

The noise of crunching snow alerted him that he wasn’t alone, but he was still utterly surprised when a woman in a long dark cloak emerged from the woods onto the path in front of him. She had her hood pulled up so it shadowed her face and she moved with the kind of grace he was sure he would have noticed if he’d seen her before.

Somewhere deep inside, his gut twisted in warning, but William had never been rude to a lady.

“Miss?” he called. She seemed to contemplate their surroundings before gliding in his direction, her feet appearing to barely touch the compacted snow of the path he’d forged earlier. “Are you lost?” he asked.

She stopped a few feet from him and finally lowered her hood, revealing dark hair and eyes, along with a strange predatory expression. “But here is only one turtledove where there should be two,” she replied in an accent completely unlike his American neighbors.

William frowned. “Are you quite all right?”

She swayed closer to him, reaching out with one hand. “It was only a whisper, but now I hear it screaming. Can you feel it?”

“Ah, no?” William said uncertainly, resisting the urge to step back. Cold was settling into his bones since he’d stopped moving. “Can I help you find your way back home?”

She pressed a hand to his chest, just over his heart, and despite how bundled up he was her touch seared through him. He gasped and tried to pull away, but she’d grabbed his arm and he wasn’t able to break free. In the deepening twilight, her face became a mask of horror.

“The drums have started. She’s waiting for you,” the strange woman whispered in his ear before she sank her teeth into his neck.

William tried to scream, but it came out as more of a gurgle. The branches dipped and swayed above him as the wind picked up until it was nearly a howl, and then everything went black.

***

Sputtering, William rolled over and tried to wipe the snow off his face, unable to feel his fingers. He squinted against the glare of the sun bouncing off the snow and a shiver wracked his body. He stumbled to his feet, almost falling when his muscles didn’t want to obey him. Had he been out here all night? What had that woman done to him?

What would Buffy... _Buffy_. He staggered and almost fell, propping himself up against a tree trunk and gasping for breath as his memories knit themselves together. The years before and years since this moment blended until it felt his head might burst from trying to contain it all. He was back, and she wouldn’t exist for another hundred years.

He closed his eyes and conjured up their last moments together. Her cheeks stained with tears as she cried over him, of all people. And then she’d…she’d said she loved him. William braced himself against the tree to keep from toppling back into the snow and succumbing to grief himself.

For one brief, shining moment, he’d had everything he ever wanted, only to have it snatched away. Even Pushkin couldn’t have begun to understand a fate as cruel as this.

Gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering, William forced himself to pick up his feet and strike out towards home. His mother must be beside herself with worry. He spent a moment looking for the sled, even if he doubted he had the strength to pull it, but it was nowhere to be seen.

The path he’d made yesterday wasn’t visible either, but he hadn’t been far from the house when he’d met that strange woman. He walked towards the rising sun, stripping off his sodden gloves and stuffing his hands into his pockets to try and warm them. His fingers ached with cold.

Trudging through the snow, he felt like a hollowed-out shell of himself. The numbness of his extremities matched the emptiness inside.

Rather sooner than he expected, he found himself on the edge of the woods. He could see the rear of the house in the distance, with icicles hanging from the eaves and snow covering the roof. The sight of it nearly tore his heart in two. Was he doomed to wander endlessly through those halls searching for something impossible in every lifetime?

Lowering his head, William concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, watching the pristine snow sink beneath his boots as he neared home. An unfamiliar noise had him lifting his gaze just in time to see a car pull up in front of the house before coming to a stop.

He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the vehicle as someone climbed out. A car. There shouldn’t be a car here. They didn’t even have a carriage. Footsteps crunched through the snow in his direction.

“William?” Giles’s surprised voice penetrated his haze. A steady hand grasped his elbow and steered him towards the front of the house. “Good lord, you’re frozen through. What are you doing here? How did you…” Giles’ voice faded to the background as they reached the front gate. William paused, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he relished standing on the other side of the barrier he hadn’t been able to cross for over a hundred years.

“Is she here?” William asked hoarsely. The front door opened and his head jerked up, hope filling him.

“Rupert, have you seen—William?” Jenny stared at him in astonishment from the front porch. 

A gentle push got him moving again, though he was starting to lean rather heavily against Giles. He could see the Christmas tree in the window of the parlor, but no shining head of golden hair. “Up we go,” Giles said, propelling William up the porch steps and towards the front door. “Let’s get you in by the fire.”

William stumbled to a halt in the foyer, still stunned. A small gasp drew his attention, and he looked up to see Buffy coming down the stairs, a suitcase in her hand. Her hair was a messy pile on her head, and her face was pale and drawn. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“Buffy,” he croaked as his knees gave way.

***

It was William.

Buffy nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to get to him, her suitcase tumbling from her hand, forgotten.

He sank to his knees, looking exhausted. His face was pale and wind-chapped, but he was there in front of her. She wondered for a split second if she was dreaming, and hoped she’d never wake up.

“William,” she choked out, dropping to the floor in front of him and wrapping her arms around his neck as he sagged against her. “My William,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears. His cheek was cold against hers, and she could feel him shivering. His coat was damp and he looked chilled to the bone. She fumbled with the buttons of his overcoat, her hands shaking. “You’re freezing, William. What happened? Why…?” She swallowed her question, deciding she didn’t care in the slightest.

He was home.

“Buffy?” he said, curling his arms around her waist.

He tucked his cold nose against her neck as she shoved his jacket off his shoulders, then plucked his hat from his head. Running a hand over his damp curls, she pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’ve got you,” she said.

There were other voices around her. She could hear feet stomping and excited chatter, but none of that mattered. Someone helped her get William to his feet again, heading for the parlor. He leaned against her heavily, his feet clumsy, as they settled in front of a crackling fire. Buffy hastily shed her coat before attacking the buttons of William’s vest and shirt. “You’re soaked through,” she murmured, pulling his arms free and leaving him in his undershirt.

Someone handed her a towel and she swiped it through William’s hair, watching with relief as his face began to regain its color. He was staring at her as though he thought she was going to disappear at any moment.

“Buffy,” he repeated.

“I’m here, William.” She kissed his trembling hand as he reached for her, pressing her cheek against his briefly before she moved away to tackle his boots. They were caked in melting snow, and balls of ice were clinging to the hem of his pants.

A glass of amber liquid appeared in William’s hand and he glanced at it in bewilderment for a moment before tossing it back in one gulp. A blanket was dropped onto the rug beside them. William’s eyes returned to Buffy as she yanked off his boots and flung them aside. The voices around them faded to a murmur as William slumped back against the rug by the hearth and his shivering subsided.

Buffy straddled his hips and gazed down at him as he reached up and fisted a hand into her hair. “Are you real?” he asked in awe.

She bent to press a gentle kiss to his lips, glad to feel his skin warming. The sound of the front door slamming barely registered. “I’m real, William,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Say it again?” he asked, his hands wandering down to tug at the hem of her sweater. She let him pull it up over her head before she returned the favor, removing his undershirt and gliding her hands down his bare chest.

It took her a moment to realize what he was asking, her heart stuttering in her chest as she put the pieces together. “I love you,” she said.

He propped himself up on his elbows as she unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down over his legs, followed by his socks. His skin was pale in the firelight and he watched avidly as she shed the rest of her clothes before draping herself on top of him and burying her face against his shoulder. She dragged the blanket over them both.   

He shuddered under her, his arms wrapping around her and holding her tight. “Love you,” he murmured into her ear. “Buffy.” His lips skated along her collarbone up her throat, finally reaching her mouth. She could feel his cock swelling to life as they kissed, exploring each other’s mouths. She ached with need for him, and she shifted a little to cradle his hardening shaft between her legs, making him moan.

His hands moved down to grip her ass as his hips bucked under her. “Wait,” Buffy braced herself to prevent him from rolling them over and he opened his eyes, his brow furrowing. “Just wait,” she whispered, kissing him until he relaxed again. She slid down his body, inhaling deeply and kissing his chest before sitting up again and smiling down at him.

Lifting up slightly, she grasped his full cock, using the head of it to part her slick folds and positioning it at her entrance. He watched, his eyes wide and his chest heaving, as she began to sink down onto him, feeling her inner walls stretching to accommodate his girth. “William,” she gasped as she took all of him in, settling against his pelvis.

He groaned, reaching up to cup her breasts in his hands as his eyelids fluttered. “Buffy,” he said again, his tone reverent. She raised herself up just a bit before taking him all back in, her whole body alight with desire and love.

He’d come back, and she was never letting him go again.

***

_One year later_

Greg frowned up at the house in front of him, taking in all the abundance of Christmas decorations and the half-full parking lot beside it. Man, these people took their holidays way seriously, though why they’d go through the trouble when they were trying to get someone to take the place off their hands as quickly as possible, he had no idea.

Shrugging, he mounted the porch stairs, wiped his boots on a mat with a picture of two birds entwined on it, and knocked on the door. He checked his clipboard one more time for the name just as the front door opened.

“Oh,” a woman said, looking startled. “Well, you’re not Xander. Can I help you?

Greg blinked at her, taking in her extremely round, pregnant belly, and her festive holiday sweater that was giving him a really great view of her tits. “Uh, Buffy?” he asked, remembering his manners and trying to focus on her face instead.

She frowned. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Who is it?” a masculine voice called. A man joined them a moment later, his arm sliding around her waist and resting on her belly. There was a gold ring on his left hand. “What do you want?”

“William,” Buffy said, her tone fond. 

Greg put on his best professional face as the dude eyed him like he knew Greg had just been checking out his wife’s boobs. William might be dressed like the boss’s accountant, but he had a dangerous glint in his eye. “Uh, I’m the home inspector?”

“Home inspector?” Buffy asked, sounding bewildered.

“Yeah,” Greg said, holding up his clipboard. “We had an appointment. Aren’t you from Snyder and Wilkins?”

“Snyder and…oh my god!” Buffy exclaimed. “That was last  _year_!”

“What?” Greg pulled out his phone and opened the calendar. “It’s for today, it says right here.” He frowned at the screen, realizing the appointment had been added a really freaking long time ago, like, last year, actually. No one made appointments that far in advance. “Oh, crap.”

“You see?” William said. “I told you those things were a menace. What’s wrong with a nice datebook?”

Greg resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There were way too many people from the city moving into town lately, looking for a ‘simpler life’. If he had to tell one more property owner they weren’t zoned for chickens, he was going to lose his damn mind. “Uh, right.” He scratched his head and looked around. No chicken coops, thank god. “So, I guess you decided not to sell?”

Buffy smiled, her eyes drifting to William, and Greg felt a flash of envy. “Something like that.”

William’s entire demeanor softened, and he gave his wife’s belly a gentle pat. “You should get off your feet, I’ll bring you some cider.”

Buffy lifted up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across her husband’s cheek. “And then see if you can talk this kid into getting out in time for Christmas.”

Grinning, William watched her walk away before propping himself up against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “I should probably thank you,” he said unexpectedly.

“For screwing up the appointment?” Greg asked, confused.

William lifted one shoulder. “Never would have met her if you’d showed up on time.”

“Oh. Uh…you’re welcome?” Greg replied. He could hear voices and laughter coming from somewhere inside the house. Buffy called William’s name.

Glancing over his shoulder distractedly, William began to close the door. “Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Original author notes: This is what happens when you overdose on holiday romance movies and think "Oh my god, this could be so much Spuffier". Plot is heavily influenced by "The Spirit of Christmas".


End file.
